


Let's Go

by NeonDemon (Nnoitra)



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alleyway make outs, Blowjobs, Frottage, Lewdness, M/M, a single non con lick, actually posted 15 may 2019 but written 18 may 2014, sherlock can only see an agreeable outcome to moriarty's offer, soon to be criminal sherlock, wanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2020-03-05 20:33:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18836266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nnoitra/pseuds/NeonDemon
Summary: Sherlock is barely a minute back in 221B when he gets a message. His life is changing, and it starts now. Better make it happen before Brother mine and Co find out.





	Let's Go

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fanfic which I wrote a long time ago, and while my laptop is dead, I had an old laptop that belonged to my mother which she let me use whenever she wasn't home so naturally I watched horror movies and wrote fanfics. I didn't edit too much so this is pretty much the original thing. Bare in mind however, that at the time I wrote this the whole 'did you miss me' had not long come out and I was all hyped. Don't know why I was hyped because I wasn't even in the fandom nor had I even watched more than two episodes, however my friend was obsessed and would tell me everything about it so I made this for her. Then we had a fight and I forgot it existed, and since the laptop only has half a working screen, it got dumped into storage and left to be a dust collector. However, as I'm packing to move I found it again and remembered it. So naturally, I went out and collected the Sherlock series so I could actually watch it properly. A little late to the party, but better late then never I suppose! Had to dump this on a usb to get it to the computer I'm currently working with so I could edit it a bit. Hope it's enjoyed anyway. Despite that it should have been posted years ago, I'm still kind of interested in posting it now anyway and if you're reading this then congratulations, I sucked it up and posted it. You can probably tell it's old because of the way I'm writing how they text, I would not be caught dead writing it like that again, but I guess it fits the theme somewhat. I've also gotten lazier with my writing, I wish I could write like I used to. I tried so hard to get myself out of writing horror that now I can't write anything other than gay stuff. I'm into girls, I'm hella gay myself, and yet if it involves boys then I can write it? I don't understand. Suppose you do too much of something it becomes a habit you can't brush away. I'm trying to broaden my writing horizon again, I have a book to make damn it and it's not a fanfic for once.

  
_'Did you miss me?'_

Never had a string of words hit Sherlock so hard before. He had accepted Moriarty's death, he'd accepted his own inevitable fate, but seeing that mans face flashing on the screen and those words. _Those words_. So many thoughts and feelings rushed through him all at once, leaving him in a state of shock, unable to comprehend and analyse everything going on in his head at that moment. Such mixed emotions; hate, anger, shock, nervousness... and is that... hope? Was it hope that he'll live, or something else? Doubtful he's hoping to live, he was already ready to accept death at face value, so it must be hope for something else. But as to what that is, he's not in the right mindset to focus on. Perhaps later. Sherlock can feel people staring at him, waiting for his verdict; he's going to have to say something, get them off his back for a bit while he sorts himself out.

  
He spends the whole ride back to 221B in complete silence, the driver giving him nervous glances. He hadn't blinked for nearly an hour and a half, after all. Tossing the cabbie his money, Sherlock jumps from the cab and hurries into his apartment, thankfully not running into Mrs. Hudson. Slamming his door behind himself, he doesn't bother locking it, knowing he'll eventually be disturbed anyway as is the way of being a consulting detective. Mindless people badgering him day in day out, asking him to solve the most boring of _mysteries_ , as they call them. Trivial. People are trivial. Moriarty though, he's not trivial.

  
Sherlock hums in annoyance and throws himself into his chair. _Moriarty_... Never had a man been so less trivial to Sherlock. The man was an enigma, and Sherlock gets a shiver down his spine when he thinks of the fact that he's never had to say 'Just when I thought I'd figured that man out!'. The pleasure it brings to his mind knowing he may never fully understand the way Jim Moriarty's, Consulting Criminal and Arch Nemesis of Sherlock Holmes, brain works.

  
Ah yes. _Hope_.

  
Yes, now he thinks he knows why there's hope there, muddled and mixed in with all those other thoughts. The hope that with Moriarty's return, perhaps the return of interesting cases and mysterious deaths will return. He doesn't stop to chastise himself for not even considering the victims. Why consider how they feel? After all, they must have done something to someone to end up that way. Know a bit too much for their own good, seen something they shouldn't have. People are snoops and snitches, and that's just how it is. They feel fake feelings, plastic feelings, in their little plastic lives full of boring dramatics and no real sense of living. But one question plagues Sherlock at the moment.

  
Did Moriarty decide to come back to save Sherlock from what was basically the death penalty, or did he do it unknowingly? He doubts he didn't know, after all Moriarty seems to know everything and that's one of the many aspects of him that Sherlock finds himself admiring. He lets a small smile slip by. What was Moriarty doing and thinking at that moment? Oh what Sherlock would give to know _that_. With that thought comes similar ones; What does Moriarty do when he has no business to attend to? What does he do when he's bored other than cause chaos? Does he eat on a regular schedule like a normal person or is he as sporadic as Sherlock is? What's his favorite food?

  
His phone buzzes, almost making him jump as he was startled out of his thoughts. He shuffles around, trying to pull it out of his pocket without having to move to much out of his comfortable position. As he finally retrieves his phone, he notices it's from someone in his contacts listed as My Little Secret. Frowning, Sherlock opens up the text; he hadn't recognized the contact, but he had a feeling he knew who it would be.

  
**[My Little Secret + Sherlock]**

  
**\- I assume my little stunt is the entire reason you're currently sitting in 221B, AkA I was successful. -JM**

  
**-Yes, I figured you had that perfectly timed out. -SH**

  
**-I couldn't let them take you away like that. I was not yet done with you. -JM**

  
**-Hm, although you have yet to have anything to do with me at all for over two years now. -SH**

  
**-Haven't the time, dear. I'm a busy man you know! -JM**

  
**-Why did you shoot yourself? -SH**

  
**-So forward... -JM**

  
**-Perhaps in time I'll tell you how I lived. -JM**

  
**-I look forward to hearing it. -SH**

  
**-But I must ask. Why go to such a length like that? You plastered your face all over England. -SH**

  
**\- Hmm, I had to do something that would grab the attention of everyone, and a public stunt like that really makes the Government frazzled. -JM**

  
**-Though your face is surely to be known world wide now, that cannot be good for you. -SH**

  
**-Concerned for me, are you? I'm touched. -JM**

  
**-Merely thankful. Perhaps my cases will cease being dull finally. -SH**

  
**-Ah yes, about that. I've been doing my main operations in Brazil the last two years, so whilst I still had my hand in England's crime world, I couldn't orchestrate such grand things for you without being there to see it play it out myself. -JM**

  
**-Also owing to the fact I was indeed playing dead, and doing anything too temptingly grand would have given me away. -JM**

  
**-I suppose I understand. Didn't make life any less mind numbing, though. -SH**

  
**-Ooh I'm blushing; you think so highly of me, Sherly. -JM**

  
**\- Of course, I have no one else to compete with. -SH**

  
**\- Naturally. -JM**

  
**-I like watching you at work, and you like solving my work. It works out perfectly, don't you think? -JM**

  
**-It is fun, I admit. -SH**

  
**-I have a question that has always played on my mind. -JM**

  
**-You see, I know that you enjoy solving things, and even masterminding some of them but I have to say! For someone who takes such in enjoyment in solving crime, you sure do have a dislike for the humans you seem adamant about helping. -JM**

  
**-I know the way you think, but I still cannot figure out your reasoning for helping those people when you so clearly prefer the dangerous lifestyle, considering all the fights and Confirmed Death Imminent scenarios you throw yourself into. You like to get yourself bloody, you get a rush, yet you help those dreadfully dull people you have no interest in. Why do you do that?" -JM**

  
**-You haven't figured it out because even I haven't considered why I do it. -SH**

**-That's not usually a problem for me. I know that boredom is a partial reason, that much is clear. You like puzzles, you rarely ever take up cases that don't have something to do with me. At first I was thinking obsession but it's not just that, is it? You don't care a single bit for the living involved in the cases, so why bother with solving them other than the puzzle? -JM**

  
**-Can it not be that I just enjoy the puzzle aspect of it? -SH**

  
**-No! It can't. Reasons, I want reasons, Sherlock. -JM**

  
**-You're thinking about why I would I say that. So let's discuss Magnussen. -JM**

  
**-What has he got to do with anything? -SH**

  
**-Don't ask questions you already know the answer to, Sherlock. -JM**

  
**-I'm to assume that based on our conversation, you wondered why I went into crime solving when I had no problem killing a man myself? You considered the possibility of me simply liking a challenge, but decided there must be another factor because I clearly don't feel anything for either the victims or families of the victims. -SH**

  
**-Honestly, I think you only wanted to get me to say it. So there you have it, I am only interested in the murders and puzzles and couldn't care less about the people involved. -SH**

  
**-Hm, was I being that obvious? Alright then. You got me! How boring, I could have drawn this conversation out and yet it's over already. -JM**

  
**-Suppose we could talk about other topics. -SH**

  
**-Idle chit chat? How common. -JM**

  
**-I suppose. -SH**

  
**-Why did you want me to tell you what you already knew? -SH**

  
**-Bored, myself. Wondered how either of us would react if you were to say it. Bit disappointed, but not at all surprised. -JM**

  
**-Didn't know what you were expecting, then? -SH**

  
**-Pretty much. -JM**

  
**-You must be extremely bored then. -SH**

  
**-Incredibly. As soon as I realized you'd gone and gotten yourself into some deep shit, I cleared my entire schedule should more action than my little video had been needed. -JM**

  
**-Can't say it was a mistake on my part, but it's bad business to reschedule everything for the same day again after you've sent out notice to all parties involved that you would not be able to do anything today. So yes, I am extremely bored and, I suppose, pleasantly disappointed that all it took was my little video to save you. -JM**

  
**-Pleasantly disappointed, huh. An interesting term. -SH**

  
**-Saved a lot of money and trouble on my part, is what I'm saying, and yet I find myself disappointed that it really was no challenge at all. -JM**

  
**-It was easy, wasn't it. It's like England itself can't decide if it wants me to stay or leave. One moment I've been shipped off to my death, and barely 5 minutes later they're basically crying for my return. -SH**

  
**-Indeed! What would England be without you or I? -JM**

  
**-Chaotically... boring. -SH**

  
**-You're so right. Mindless people going about their daily business, pretending that they're living life like it's their last day, but really they're just following the same old routine and rules, like all the other puppets around them. Thinking they're so different from each other, but really they're all exactly the same. -JM**

  
**-Precisely. England would fall. It would be The Great Depression of Intellect. -SH**

  
**-Oh! I love that term. I think I might use that one day. -JM**

  
**-You haven't asked me why I haven't treated you like an enemy since your return from the dead a few hours ago. -SH**

  
**-Didn't think I had to. You came to terms with my 'death', and now I just saved your life. Your brain hasn't really considered the whole 'we're still enemies' thing yet. Either it will kick in or it won't, we'll see. -JM**

  
**-I suppose it's because other than save my life, I haven't seen you do anything incriminating yet. -SH**

  
**-What would you do if I did do something? -JM**

  
**-Solve it, if it's something to be solved. -SH**

  
**-Mm, yes I do like watching you work, however I have a proposition to make. A few, actually, and you may pick and choose which one you'd like best. -JM**

  
**-Oh? -SH**

  
**-Yes. Don't reply until I tell you to while I list them off. -JM**

  
**-Work with me, we share funds on our projects, we both profit from the outcomes. Yes, that means you'll be heading down into the underworld with me. If you take this offer as a chance to take me down, I'll make sure you regret trying to do so, if you even get the time to regret it. -JM**

  
**-Continue what you're doing, working with those mindless detectives; but consider me your enemy. -JM**

  
**-Continue how you are, but staying somewhat friends or equals with me and risk the British Government aka Dear Brother and Co finding out about this little tryst of ours, and having a bit of consequences for it. -JM**

  
**-You may reply. -JM**

  
**-This wasn't really about the choices, but the warning that if we continue to talk like this the Government will realize you did that stunt to save me, and therefore they'll either A; Try and persuade me to take you down from the inside, or B; They'll send me to my death. Again. -SH**

  
**-And? -JM**

  
**-And Mycroft won't be able to get me out of another life or death situation without it impeding on his position. -SH**

  
**-Spot on, Sherly. -JM**

  
**-Best make your decision quickly, they'll start to keep closer tabs on you starting tonight. -JM**

  
**-Ah. This is why you're messaging me so quick after your little stunt. Worried that showing yourself as the Mastermind in public to save me might not be worth it if they find out we're talking like this. -SH**

  
**-Yes and no. You're smarter than this Sherlock. I knew that if I did message you, you'd be forced to hide yourself and who knows how to hide a person better than me? -JM**

  
**-Ah right. I guess at this point I have no choice, do I? -SH**

  
**-Correct. -JM**

  
**-I'll go with you but I want you to promise me something. -SH**

  
**-Depends on what that is. -JM**

  
**-You must make sure no harm comes to John and his family. Protect them. -SH**

  
**-As much as I loathe that man's wife for shooting you, I suppose I can comply with that for as long as you're with me. -JM**

  
**-Thank you. -Sh**

  
**-Wait, you knew about Mary shooting me and you managed to hold back on killing her? Paint me surprised. -SH**

  
**-There are a few reasons I did not, as tempting as it was. One being that had I done so, that would hurt both you and John, and therefore hurting you double. Another being that should I ever have you myself, I could perhaps persuade you to allow me to borrow her talents once more should the time come for it. Though I doubt it, Moran is doing a supreme job. -JM**

  
**-Of course. But either way I'm grateful you won't harm them. -SH**

  
**\- Indeed. Meet me at the pool, preferably ASAP instead of Midnight. They're going to start the tabs on you at 8:00 PM. Meaning phone records as well. Currently only 1 Person knows your phone records and they'll keep their mouth shut. -JM**

  
**-Ah yes. Let me pack and I'll be right there. -SH.**

  
Sherlock had hastily shoved his phone in his pocket and started packing as fast as he could. Never having had to pack in this manner before made his brain hazy on what to actually take with him. He knew he had to be hasty in this, but the niggling feelings of sentiment over objects such as his friend the skull made it difficult. He gave in though and grabbed the skull, wrapping it in one of John's old newspapers and shoving it into the suitcase anyway.

  
Angry. That's what he should be feeling, Sherlock notes. But he's not, and it's obvious to him that really he's just feeling elated. Elated and maybe a little excited about the prospect of a brand new, more interesting, future ahead of him. He feels better knowing Moriarty's promise to keep John and his family safe from harm. He'd rather face death penalty than have harm come to the people he's closest to. John was his first living friend, and he's going to keep it that way. He'll miss John, but he'll be bale to see him again. Maybe try and keep at least semi-regular contact to let him know he's going ok and not to worry.

  
Shoving the last item into his suitcase, he zips it shut and drags out of his bedroom and dumps it next to the main door. He ducks into the kitchen and grabs his phone charger, and a box of food that John had dropped off a few days ago with the message 'don't forget to eat' plastered on it in the form of a sticky note and permanent marker. He hasn't touched it since it arrived, but he did thank John. He figured he might as well take it with him, maybe Moriarty could use some of it. He shoves the phone charger into one of the side pockets of the suitcase.

  
As he drags the suitcase and box to front door of the apartment building, he decides to pop in and say his farewells to Mrs. Hudson. Figures he owes her a goodbye, for once. He goes and knows on her door, waiting barely 30 seconds before she opens it.

  
"Oh, Sherlock. What a surprise! What did you need from me? I do hope it's not more bleach, I can't stand seeing all those spills all over your apartment." She titters.

  
"Nothing like that Mrs. Hudson, just here saying farewell to my favorite landlady." Sherlock says, giving her a curt nod.

  
"You're leaving?" She asks, "When will you be back? Is it a holiday?"

  
"No, this time it may be permanent. No faking my death this time." Sherlock replies.

  
"You're dying for real!?" She squeaks.

  
"No!" Sherlock quickly says, "No, nothing like that; ok well I might end up dying but it won't be because I'm leaving."

  
"That doesn't make it any better. Where are you going?" She mumbles.

  
"Can't answer that, but I'll be fine." Sherlock says, "Besides, I'll probably see you again, so this hopefully isn't goodbye forever."

  
"Oh that's nice, then, isn't it? You can come over for a cup of tea." She smiles, "You will won't you?"

  
"Oh I'll sure try." Sherlock replies, "Will you be right for rent with me not here?"

  
"You barely paid it to begin." She huffs, "But yes, I'll be fine. I'm quite capable."

  
"You sure are." Sherlock let's a small smile slip, "Then I shall be off. Take care, Mrs. Hudson."

  
"Goodbye, Sherlock." Mrs. Hudson waves after Sherlock as she watches him grab his stuff and shuffle out the door, "Stay safe!" She yells as an afterthought.

  
He gives her one last fleeting smile before shutting the door behind him.

 

He grabs a cab to the pool, figuring out on the way that the best way to keep in contact with John would be to use letters, mailed via his homeless network in different parts of the city so it becomes harder to trace back to where they were originally sent from. He thinks about perhaps buying a carrier pigeon, but figures that would just cause a considerable amount of suspicion should the pigeon be found out. An entertaining idea, nevertheless. The cab pulls up and he grabs his stuff and dashes towards the entrance of the building.

  
He pulls the door open and slips inside, letting it gently close behind him as he takes in his surroundings, looking for any signs that something was out of place. It pays to be cautious every now and again, which is not something he usually would think about but this situation calls for it. Nothing seemed out of place, the quiet hum of the pool filter and machinery in surrounding rooms, the gentle flickering lights reflecting off of the water creating shapes and illusions on the roof.

  
"Moriarty?" Sherlock calls out, not loud enough to be heard from outside the building but loud enough that it echoes through the building.

  
"Please, just use Jim." A voice answers, Moriarty stepping around a corner, seemingly he had been loitering around the mens change rooms.

  
"Snooping around the lockers, were you? Find anything?" Sherlock asks, walking towards Moriarty.

  
"Nothing, really. Quite boring." He shrugs, shutting the door and waling to meet Sherlock halfway. "Originally I was checking for bugs, but then thought maybe people had left some things worth noting, but evidently not."

  
"Pity." Sherlock replies, gently placing his suitcase down, along with the box.

  
"Condoning my search, were you?" Moriarty grins, "Naughty."

  
"You can tell a lot by what a person leaves in their lockers." Sherlock says, "Were I down here any other day without incentive other than boredom, I may have gone through them myself."

  
"Would you?" Moriarty asks.

  
"I suppose so, anyway. It would give me something to do and depending on what's in there, could have given me a case." Sherlock replies, "Or at least given the Yard a new case, if I thought it was boring."

  
"The third locker row from your left as you walk in, the second last one in that row towards the back. Man who owns that murdered his wife, recently. Wasn't even a situation of deduction either; he just stored the weapon and clothing in there. I'd say he's gone on the run, but he'll be caught quickly." Moriarty says.

  
"Anyone that sloppy isn't even worth a minute of my time." Sherlock says, "Anyway, what's your plan? Are we getting out of here as soon as we can or is this a talk and devise situation? It happens to be nearing 7:30 so if we're to get out of here we should do it soon."

  
"All in good time, Sherly." Moriarty replies, "I have a car waiting out the back."

  
"I see." Sherlock says, "Should we leave or...?"

  
"Might as well. You seem very eager. Thought we could talk a bit more." Moriarty says, turning to leave towards the back exit of the building.

  
Picking up his stuff, Sherlock quickly follows after Moriarty, taking one last glance around the pool before heading through the door close behind the other man.

  
"We can talk in the car, can we not?" Sherlock says, following Moriarty to a sleek black car parked beside a dumpster.

  
"We can, but it's less..." he makes a waving motion with his hand, "Less of an interesting aura to talk."

  
"Ah. Situation themes." Sherlock nods, "How comical."

  
"A mild entertainment nevertheless." Moriarty shrugs. "Dump your stuff in the back of the car."

  
Sherlock does so, taking care not to be too rough with his own belongings. He notes that the back of the car seems to be a mess of papers and pens. He idly wonders if that's how Moriarty prefers it or if that's just how the driver likes it. He doesn't pay it much mind, dumping his stuff on top of it all, trying to make sure nothing looks like it'll fall over in the trip. Slamming the boot of the car when he's done, he quickly heads around and jumps in the back, next to Moriarty. The other man already with his belt on and in a relaxed posture, as relaxed as a man who clearly had something itching in his mind could be; Sherlock hadn't failed to notice the very faint drumming of his fingers on the seat beside Moriarty as the man watched him get in the car.

 

"You have something you wish to say but you're putting it off." Sherlock mumbles, fumbling with his seat belt.

 

"Observant." Moriarty mutters.

 

"You're tapping your fingers, it's hardly an observation." Sherlock replies.

 

"Yes, well." Moriarty says, "I guess I'm a little excited that you're coming over to the dark side with me."

 

"You're nervous, though." Sherlock points out.

 

Moriarty huffs out a breath, "Of course, can't have you somehow being better than me at my own job."

 

"Are you still going to keep your old promise of killing me?" Sherlock mumbles.

 

"I think we're past that now, although... it would be _so_ tempting to do so." Moriarty smirks, "But definitely not anytime soon unless you really piss me off."

 

"I shall keep that in mind." Sherlock replies. "May I ask where we're going?"

 

"Our new place!" Moriarty sing songs.

  
"Emphasis on 'our', am I to be _moving in_ with you?" Sherlock asks.

  
Moriarty's stare turns icy for a second, "Is there a problem?"

  
Sherlock thinks carefully about his reply, "I'm a terrible roommate."

  
Moriarty lightens up, "As am I, but I'm sure we could work together in this, too."

  
"Hopefully we'll manage." Sherlock replies, "Chaos would reign if we worked too well together, though."

  
Moriarty fixes him with a blank stare.

  
"Ah. That's what you're _hoping_ for, I see." Sherlock says, "Suppose we'll just wait and see, shall we?"

  
"Suppose." Moriarty replies, "Though I do believe we'd work well together."

  
"Most likely." Sherlock says.

  
"I hope your new place is to your liking. If not we can try and find somewhere else." Moriarty says.

  
"This is sounding very domestic." Sherlock comments, "I think I may have even heard a young rich couple say those exact words once."

  
"Finding comfortable and usable housing doesn't just apply to people dappling in common domesticity." Moriarty mumbles, "I did think of just bringing you back to one of my apartments, but people would notice the change and I can't have that."

  
"Off topic, but Mycroft is going to be very pissed about this." Sherlock comments, "Not that I mind, in fact I'm delighted, but this is going to be considerably problematic for family related things. Normally we can try and put our differences aside as much as we can for mummy but that's going to be quite difficult this time around."

  
"Familial problems. How tedious. I doubt Mycroft will do too much to you unless it's going to be a public spectacle or if he's with another from his line of work. He has to keep up his own appearances and while you're out of the spotlight as much as you can be, then he will feel he probably doesn't have to take action against you. So family events, you're probably fine for, but best to double check before one just in case." Moriarty says, picking at his nails while he spoke.

  
"You've got this all planned out, haven't you? I'm not surprised but I suppose I am a little thankful you did consider me further than 'we could work well together'." Sherlock replies, "So thank you, I guess."

  
"No need for thanks, Sherlock. I merely had to consider everything that could hinder your option to join me willingly." Moriarty says, "Though the fact that your family didn't come above John and his family in level of importance doesn't surprise me in the least."

  
"Why would it. Mycroft can take of our family just fine, I was more worried about John because he and Mary have a child on the way and with John's connection to me, and Mary with her past, they were far more of a liability than my own family would have been." Sherlock says, "Of course, you probably already knew all of that so it was pointless of me to explain."

  
"I did know, but I don't care that you felt the need to explain." Moriarty says, "Hearing you talk makes me hard."

  
"Ah." Sherlock nods, "You... get off to my voice?"

  
"I have done in the past. Could do so again." Moriarty says, staring carefully at Sherlock to gauge his reaction.

  
Sherlock nods, "I see."

  
Silence falls in the car, the only sound being quiet breaths and the hum and rumble of the engine.

  
Moriarty, the thought of what Sherlock's voice apparently does to him is still processing in Sherlock's head. At first Sherlock thought he may be disgusted, then intrigued; so a human voice can be enough to stimulate a person? Does a certain level of pre-attraction need to be there before a voice becomes a stimulant? Or can it just be the voice alone? Interesting, though, how a human voice can do that to person. Sherlock stores it away in his brain for further study later. Right now though, he thinks about why Moriarty was telling him this. Was he just an open person, or is he wanting Sherlock to say something, or even do something? There's always a reason, with Moriarty, even if he claims there isn't. He might like to think of himself as spontaneous, but everything is done with a thought or goal in mind. Spontaneity is done with entertainment in mind; A what would happen, scenario. Is this one of Moriarty's What Would Happen scenarios? How is Sherlock to react to this?

 

He pushes all thought away, deciding the best course of action is to just ask the man himself.

  
"Why did you tell me this?" Sherlock asks carefully.

  
Moriarty tilts his head to the side slightly, "Why _would_ I tell you Sherlock? Can you tell me why I would tell you about that?"

  
"No, that's why I'm asking." Sherlock mumbles. "I could think of multiple reasons, but I'd like to hear it from you."

  
"I told you because I wanted to tell you." Moriarty replies, "Felt like telling you."

  
"So you wanted... to see how I'd react?" Sherlock guessed.

  
"Suppose so." Moriarty says, "Wanted to see what would happen."

  
"Did you lie to see how I would react?" Sherlock asks.

  
"No, it was all true." Moriarty grins. "I see no reason to lie to you about things like that. You're an adult, you can handle it."

  
Sherlock huffs, "Yes, well. I didn't realize that people could get off to someone's voice. Thought it was physical stuff."

  
"Are you a virgin, Sherlock?" Moriarty asks, "I thought you might be but your little obsession with Irene had me wondering for a little if maybe you'd both done something."

  
"I didn't have sex with Irene." Sherlock mumbles.

  
"Ah, but that's not a 'no Jim, of course I'm not a virgin!', so you are one, aren't you? I was right originally." Moriarty grins again, "Unless of course you've only had a mediocre back of the club, against the wall quick rut, which I can't imagine you doing."

  
"I've had sex. Just, no attachment was involved." Sherlock mutters, "Why are you asking me all these questions?"

 

"Curiosity, I suppose." Moriarty replies, "So you've had sex like once. Enough to not have the label virgin, but not enough to really know how it works. University, I'm guessing. Boring."

  
"Yes, it was University." Sherlock says, he turns to face out the window so he doesn't have to look Moriarty in the eyes. "And Curiosity killed the cat, as they say."

  
"Doesn't make much sense for you to say that, but hey," Moriarty reaches and grabs Sherlock's chin, forcing him to turn to look at him, "Satisfaction brought it back."

  
With that he leans in and licks a wet stripe up along Sherlock's jaw, watching with amusement as Sherlock's face went through a range of different emotions all at once. He tries not flinch, but does so anyway. He tries to bat Moriarty's hand away from his face, but he just holds tighter. He realizes it's pointless and just stills, relaxing into the grip.

  
"Why did you have to lick me?" Sherlock asks.

  
"I wanted to." Moriarty replies, he reaches his index finger up and brushes it along Sherlock's jaw before slowly letting go and retracting his hand back into his own lap. "Such a wonderful expression you had there."

  
Sherlock can still the finger indentations on his chin, and he imagines he'll still feel them for a little while afterwards. "If you wanted a facial expression you could have just _asked_."

 

Moriarty laughs, short and quick, "As amusing as you deliberately pulling faces at me would be, I must decline because if it's not a genuine reaction I don't want it."

 

"That's good, I'm not that great at pulling faces." Sherlock replies, "Unless they're dead of course."

  
"Naturally." Moriarty sighs, "Why are you not mad at me for all this?"

  
"How can you be sure I'm not mad at you?" Sherlock replies.

  
"You're not. When you're mad you do this delightful _thing_ with your face. You haven't done it." Moriarty says, "So you're not mad. Are you excited at the thought of a whole new more interesting life?"

  
"I don't need to answer that." Sherlock mutters.

  
"Course not. I already know the answer." Moriarty smirks, "You love it, the thought of all this. Just wondered if I can get you to say it."

  
"Don't be stupid, I'm not against admitting things. If you want me to say something you ask for it." Sherlock replies.

  
"Where's the fun in straight up _asking_ for it though? Coaxing a confession out of ones mouth is more fun, to a point I suppose." Moriarty says, "Besides, as I said, I like hearing you talk and then to hear you say something so _lovely_ as enjoying being a future criminal, why I could positively cum."

  
"Don't be ridiculous, you're not even har-" Sherlock cuts off as his eyes slide down Moriarty. Ah, he thinks. He is. "Right. More information stored that I do not at all need." He averts his gaze to outside the window.

  
"Don't be a prude, Sherlock." Moriarty grins.

  
"It's hardly prudent of me to not entirely enjoy the fact that someone is telling me how they're ready to ejaculate thanks to my voice." Sherlock mumbles, "Plus that I have no means of escape if I would like to _not_ be in the car if you _do_ plan on releasing."

  
"Oh I plan to get off, but if you want to get out of the car so badly I'll allow it. On the condition that you still talk to me through the window." Moriarty says, a smirk on his face.

  
"That's no better than staying in the car." Sherlock huffs. "I'll meet you halfway. I'll talk to you on the phone but I must be at least 20 meters away from the car itself."

  
"Hmm, I'll agree to that. " Moriarty says, he motions with his hand and the driver suddenly pulls into a side road, and then parking on the side of that road.

  
Moriarty stares at Sherlock, an eyebrow raised. "Well? Off you go. Don't forget your phone."

  
Sherlock stares for a moment before silently rising out of his seat and out of the car, slamming the door behind himself. He looks around at his surroundings and decides to go behind the building across the road, deeming it abandoned if the dusty broken car parked in front of the garage was anything to go by. He hurries across the road, his phone ringing as soon as he went around the corner of the house and out of sight of the car. He grabs it out of his pocket and answers, holding the phone to his ear.

  
"Sherlock~" Moriarty sing songs, drawing Sherlock's name out slowly.

  
"What would you have me say." Sherlock says, he had no idea what Moriarty could want to hear from him. Idle chatter? Something sexual in nature? He wasn't sure; could it even be a mixture of both? That is probably how it is, but he had to know so he asked.

  
"Mm, anything will do, Sherlock. Tell me about something trivial." Moriarty says, his voice at this point is barely above a whisper, Sherlock notes. Must have started touching himself almost as soon as Sherlock was out of the car.

  
"Um, ok, Sometimes I don't notice someone has left the room for up to a day or more. I found out that Mrs Hudson was the reason I had cups of tea; before that I'd thought that they had just been appearing, and I don't know why I thought that but somehow at some point I did and the thought stuck." Sherlock pauses, rapidly thinking about what else he could tell Moriarty, "Suppose this is relevant to our conversation, but the first time I masturbated I was 11, and I did it because I wanted to know why people seemed to enjoy such a tiring looking activity."

  
Moriarty's breath hitches and he lets out a small moan, "H-How was it?"

  
"Couldn't get it up." Sherlock mumbles, he hears Moriarty snort a small laugh in response.

  
"Some people can't at that age, it really depends on when your hormones kick in." Moriarty says, he's definitely sounding breathless now. "Tell me about the first time you _did_ get it up."

  
"It wasn't anything grand." Sherlock says, "It was when I took drugs for the third time in my life, then tried to solve a case. When I managed to I got so excited it just... happened. It wasn't even an interesting case and to make it worse it was already solved."

  
"Did you get rid of your little problem?" Moriarty asks.

  
"Yes." Sherlock whispers.

  
"How?" Moriarty whispers back.

  
Sherlock licks his lips, deciding if he was ready to take the conversation down that path or not. He makes his decision.

  
"I slipped my hands down my pants." He whispers.

  
Moriarty's moan is an incentive to continue, so Sherlock does. This time he can feel his dick starting to harden, and rapidly at this rate.

"Then I palmed myself through my underwear, I was getting harder pretty quickly." Sherlock whispers, his own breath becoming slightly labored as he currently rubbed himself through his pants. He felt almost as if this was some kind of reenactment. "Eventually I just caved in and shoved my hand down into my underwear, grabbing my dick and giving a hard single stroke."

  
"Mmm Sherly, this is so good." Moriarty gives a lewd moan, "Are you touching yourself too? You sound like you are."

  
"Yeah. I am." Sherlock mutters, slipping a hand into his pants and grabbing his own cock, stroking slowly, hearing a car door slam nearby jolts him a little but doesn't concern him. "Hey, did you just get out of the car?"

  
Silence for a bit and then, "Yeah, I did." from behind Sherlock.

  
Spinning around Sherlock drops his phone on the ground, watching as Moriarty hangs up the phone and slips it into his pocket, maintaining eye contact with Sherlock the entire time. They stare at each other for a moment, Moriarty looking flushed and slightly sweaty, Sherlock slowly reddening in the face. It took barely a second before the both of them rushed forward, meeting halfway. Sherlock slipping his hand out of his pants and grabbing Moriarty by the waist, dragging him in as the other man reaches up and grabs Sherlock's hair, dragging him down into a hard kiss.

  
With the force of the kiss you'd have thought that both men were touch starved which they may have been, but now with each other tangled together all thoughts of sensibility are thrown out as Sherlock backs Moriarty against the wall, harshly kissing him as the shorter man pulls on his hair, tangling his fingers in it, winding them through the strands. Sherlock's hands slip down to cup at Moriarty's ass, the man leaning into the touch and groaning into Sherlock's mouth. He grinds against Sherlock, making them both moan. Sherlock starts to kiss along Moriarty's jawline, reaching his neck and sucking harshly on the juncture between the jaw and neck itself, leaving a small reddish bruise before continuing down the man's neck.

  
He gives gentle nips to Moriarty's neck, reveling in the fact that he's make the consulting criminal twitch with pleasure. Moriarty's hands start to roam, heading down Sherlock's back and dipping into his pants, kneading the soft skin below. In a spur of the moment decision, Sherlock drops to his knees and before Moriarty could say anything Sherlock reaches up and pulls the mans pants down to his knees, underwear included. Moriarty hisses as the cold air hits his dick, but it's quickly replaced by a moan as Sherlock takes him in his mouth, a hand at the base of his dick.

  
As Sherlock sucks, Moriarty decides to help the man out a bit by gently placing his leather boot clad foot on Sherlock's dick, still in his pants much to Moriarty's disappointment. He gently shifts back and forth, and if the moan Sherlock lets out around his dick is any indication he enjoys Moriarty's ministrations, then that's all the consent Moriarty needed to continue using his boot to jerk Sherlock off.

 

Sherlock's tongue rubs along the underside of Moriarty's cock, making the criminal breathless, needier by the second. He rakes his fingers through Sherlock's hair, gently pulling at the locks, encouraging the man further down his dick. He could feel the tension building in him, he knew wouldn't last much longer and in a quick decision, he pulls Sherlock off his dick by his hair. He looks down into Sherlock's eyes as he retracts his boot from Sherlock, getting down on his own knees as well. Sherlock seems to get the hint though and undoes his own pants, slipping his hard dick out of his underwear. Moriarty shuffles forward a bit, spitting into his hand and reaching down between the both of them, grabbing both their cocks in his hand and stroking. Sherlock moans throatily and leans into the touch, placing his own hand over Moriarty's to double the friction for both of them.

  
With Moriarty's free hand he grabs the front of Sherlock's shirt and pulls him into a heated kiss of tongue and teeth on lips. The both groan as Moriarty ruts slightly against Sherlock, and the other man speeds up his hand ministrations. Sherlock breaks the kiss to take a deep breath, leaning his forehead against Moriarty's.

  
"Fuck, how have you lasted this long already?" Sherlock says breathlessly. "I don't know how much longer I can last."

  
"I had a bit of fun before coming to pick you up, our little talk over text previously got me a bit riled up." Moriarty mumbles, kissing Sherlock's cheek, slowly moving towards his mouth again.

  
Sherlock doesn't say anything about how Moriarty couldn't hear his voice over text and instead focuses on bringing them both to climax, gently claiming Moriarty's lips again as he rubs both their dicks together. A bead of pre-cum slowly appears on Moriarty's dick, and using his finger he swipes it up and spreads it over his and Sherlock's dick to add to his spit. Not that the spit was doing much good now, but it didn't take away from the pleasure of their activity. Sherlock does one heavy grind against Moriarty and the man whimpers, feeling himself edging towards climax even faster.

  
"Mm, fuck Sherly, you feel so good." Moriarty whispers, he starts slight grinding motions into his and Sherlock's hand.

  
Surprisingly hearing that sends Sherlock over the edge before Moriarty, his cum leaking down over their hands, over Moriarty's cock too. With the added stimulant of cum as lube and the sight of Sherlock breathless, eyes closed as he releases into Moriarty's grip, the tremors of his now overly sensitive body; well, Moriarty could hardly blame himself for cumming right then and there. He holds Sherlock tight with one arm, his other hand still rests on their dicks, covered in cum. His breathing is laboured, as is Sherlock's.

  
Suddenly Sherlock lets out a breathy laugh, "You know I could not have foreseen this happening to me today."

  
Moriarty huffs his own laugh, "I suppose I didn't really consider that we would do anything like this so quickly, let alone before we'd even _reached_ our first destination."

  
"Yet you knew we would. I thought we would at some point, but for it to be so..." Sherlock cuts himself off, still trying to regain his posture and normal breathing rate.

  
"Quick?" Moriarty finishes for him.

  
"I was going to say _desperate_." Sherlock says, "I didn't consider how desperate I would have been for this. I didn't know I needed it until it was an option."

  
"Oh honey it'll _always_ be an option." Moriarty says lightly, "With the way you look when you're desperate and horny. Positively _lewd_."

  
"Yes, positively _lewd_ icrous I'm sure." Sherlock huffs.

  
"Was that a pun? Are you making a joke, Sherly?" Moriarty grins, "Oh I'm proud. So very proud." He kisses Sherlock quickly, pulling back to continue talking, "But lets hurry and get cleaned up. I assume that security camera over there is turned on if the light on it is any indication. Meaning your brothers lot would have gotten wind of this little tryst."

  
"Shit. I was too distracted to notice it." Sherlock mutters, he quickly slips his dick back into his pants, trying to wipe his hand clean on the ground but really it just starts picking up dust and dirt.

  
"Hmm, I noticed but I want them to see that you're _mine_ Sherlock." Moriarty hums, pulling out a handkerchief and wiping his own hand and dick on it before pocketing it again and pulling out another to hand to Sherlock.

  
"Of course you knew. Probably planned it." Sherlock says, thanking Moriarty for the handkerchief with a nod, then cleaning himself up a bit with it.

  
"Can't have planned it if I didn't expect you to actually want to leave the car were I to instigate anything." Moriarty says, "Though I guess the camera is a nice touch. Gives you a sense of pride being able to show off what's yours and what you can do with it."

  
Sherlock smirks, "Should have known you'd have a thing for sexual situations in public. You sure seem the type."

  
"I suppose it's an obvious trait of mine." Moriarty muses, pulling his pants back up around his waist.

  
"I wouldn't be adverse to other situations like this one." Sherlock mutters, "I like to stir people up and who's to say something like that wouldn't make a few heads turn."

  
"I'd marry you right now just for saying that but I don't think either of us want that kind of normalcy." Moriarty says, "And I still don't trust you 100%, but that I suppose is mutual and shall be for a while anyway. Until we know where we stand with each other."

  
"Marriage is not my thing." Sherlock huffs, "Seen enough of it for a lifetime."

  
Moriarty smirks, "Yes." He reaches over and grabs Sherlock's hand, leading him out of the little alley at the side of the house. "Let's get back to the car."

  
Sherlock just nods and allows himself to be led. They get back into the car, it was almost as if nothing had happened if it weren't for the fact that their hair was a mess, their clothes rumpled and that Moriarty was slightly leaning on Sherlock now. Oh, and their hands clasped together. So maybe it wasn't as if nothing happened, but it sure was nothing the driver would be allowed to speak of any time soon lest he found dead one day, if found at all.

  
Sherlock felt himself relax into the expensive leather of the seat, it was as if a wave of contentment came over him without warning. At first he thought maybe Moriarty had somehow slipped him a drug, but then he realized what it was and how maybe being with Moriarty, this consulting criminal, this smart, beautiful man- could maybe just change his life for the better. Yes, Sherlock thinks, he could.

  
For what he feels is happiness.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't sure whether to post this to my main or to my pseud but here we are I guess. As you can probably tell this was written before S4 had come out. I think originally I had John's box of food as a future plot point but then didn't want to turn this into a multichap fic. I suppose I could write another chapter now but I mean, why bother, right? Maybe I will. Or maybe I wont.


End file.
